


Hearing Your Voice

by tenshi13



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Dancing, Dialogue Heavy, Dreams and Nightmares, Dresses, Driving, Getting Back Together, Hinder, M/M, Phone Call, Running Away, Self-Hatred, Song fic, lips of an angel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 02:19:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9577871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenshi13/pseuds/tenshi13
Summary: Very loosely based on the song "Lips of an Angel". Although this does not feature lips nor angels, there is a fair amount of crying and affectionate name calling, if you're into that. Also crushing guilt but shh that's besides the point.





	

There was water. Except _thinner_ somehow. His curled fingers dug through the liquid mass as though it were air. No resistance. Nothing to keep his body, so heavy, so impossibly heavy, afloat in the perfectly azure droplets. His body, an anchor, dragged him down, the water engulfing his nose, his mouth. Warm, he noted. It felt like soaking in a bath. Except now his airways were closing, painfully clenching with the raw feeling of water where it was not supposed to be. His ears rang. Dimly he was aware his mouth was open but he could not think to close it. The ringing was insistent now, like a buzzer, or a bell or a _phone._

He shot up, awake, sweating, the feeling of drowning still draped over him. Although the room was warm, he shivered. The quilt cover was tangled around his legs and waist and he rubbed a hand over his face, through his hair.

The phone was still ringing.

Panicked he reached over, sliding the bar to answer the call. He didn’t think the noise had woken anybody but himself. He breathed a sigh of relief, “Hello?” It came out rough, full of sleep. He coughed then tried again, no louder than a whisper, “Who is it?”

“Only me.”

The voice too whispered, matching Oikawa’s volume.

“Iwa-chan.”

“Yeah.”

Oikawa took the phone from his ear to check the time: just past midnight. Without accusation, merely curiosity he asked, “Why you calling me so late?” He was considering the lateness of the hour, the presence in the next room, when he heard a hiccupping, breathless sound through the slight static of the line. “Why’re you crying, is everything okay?” Stupidly, he realised.

A huff of laughter, “Yeah. Everything’s- everything- it’s-” but his own crying cut him off. “I should go. I shouldn’t have called.”

“No,” Oikawa agreed.

Neither hung up.

Oikawa listened to Iwaizumi breathe as he sat in the dim room, lit by a street light outside his room. It gave everything a grainy quality, like an old black and white television. Next door in her bedroom, under cream sheets lay his girlfriend, sleeping peacefully. He’d recently moved in, at her invitation, and until they bought a bigger bed, he was delegated to the guest room. It would be strange, to share a bed with someone once more. With someone with long hair, slender arms, cold hands. Different, to what he was used to. He remembered sharing with someone else, limbs comfortably entangled- or hell who was he kidding, uncomfortably half the time, the bed was too small and staying in any position for too long ended in pins and needles for the both of them. He smiled as he remembered it though, soft and true.

Iwaizumi’s breathing had evened now, no longer audibly crying.

“I guess,” Oikawa began, “we never really moved on.” And he said we, because he felt it, deep within, a connection between them. He was still tied to Iwaizumi, and even without the teary midnight phone call, he knew Iwaizumi felt the same.

“Tooru I-” the sentence once more, was aborted.

“It’s really good to hear your voice,” he blurted. Too honest, he reproached himself. It was no longer his right to say such a thing.

“I dreamed of you.”

Oikawa’s memory stirred, “that’s funny, me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup. You pushed me in a lake.”

Iwaizumi snorted, peals of suppressed laughter, “I’d be offended that that’s how you remember me but sounds about right to be honest.”

“How did your dream go?”

“We were dancing.”

“Oh?”

“In a ballroom of sorts. You were wearing a dress. I can’t remember what it was like, or rather to start with, it was that red one you like so much. But it switched halfway to some kind of ball gown. You were bad at dancing, you kept stepping on my toes.”

“Hey! I’m a brilliant dancer.”

(Oikawa’s only experience of dancing was in his underwear having recently gotten out the shower, drip drying whilst dramatically twirling about, singing passionately into a hairbrush, music blaring).

“According to you.”

(Iwaizumi had loved it, because his hair flicked dramatically, he would stub his toe, he would garble the lyrics and sing the wrong verse. He loved being dragged into a duet, prancing about the room, Oikawa getting his wet torso on Iwaizumi’s dry shirt. He loved it because it was Oikawa. He loved-)

“Anyway, I haven’t finished Shittykawa, don’t you know it’s rude to interrupt?”

“Pfft, not if the other person insults you first!” It was hard to exclaim at a whisper, but he managed it, barely.

“Details, details. Do you wanna hear it or not?”

“Yeah.”

“At first the room was full, thousands of people, too many to count. But then gradually there was less and less, although I barely noticed. When I looked again the room was empty. Just me, and you, and a mass of empty space. I was surprised, but you laughed at me. And then- and then I don’t remember. But it was a good dream.”

“You didn’t explain very well.”

“Tough.”

Oikawa tutted, “So unforthcoming.”

“Does she know that… you’re talking to me? Will it start a fight?”

“No. I don’t think she has a clue.”

“Good. I mean, I don’t want you guys to fight.”

Oikawa stared into the grey. “How come you don’t hate me?”

“What?”

“I said-”

“I heard what you said. I was just, surprised. I could never hate you.”

“You should hate me.” Oikawa thought of long brown hair and was infinitely glad that, at least for now, they weren’t sharing a bed. He would like to say he could never have had this conversation with her in the room, the guilt would be too much. Truth be told, it would just be harder to keep from waking her. “I’m a horrible person.”

“Tooru, no. Whatever you think it’s not your fault.”

“I wish she was you.”

Crackling, like a plastic bag being scrunched up. Thoughts, too many, sprung to Oikawa’s head, all fighting for dominance, all dismissed. There was too much too say, too little window of opportunity. Wherever he began he would be doomed, because by the time he finished Iwaizumi would think him too pathetic, too disgusting, and it would be justified. There was no one who could weigh up Oikawa’s decisions and call them right. “Iwa-chan please say something.” Another selfish request. Iwaizumi should just hang up the phone.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

He should say no. Pack it away, pretend it never slipped out. “I never wanted to leave you. If I tell you why it’ll sound pathetic, it _is_ pathetic. I just, I wish, I wish…” his eyes welled up with tears he did not deserve to cry.

“Shh,” Iwaizumi hummed, “Its okay Tooru. It’ll be okay.”

“If I tell you you’ll hate me.”

“I told you Oikawa, I’d never. You calling me a liar?”

“I’m saying that, you believe that now. But you won’t, when you understand what I did to you.” The tears were sobs now, for anyone to hear.

“I already know, Tooru.”

“I- what?”

Iwaizumi spoke softly, carefully, but assured. “I know the pressure you were under from your parents. I know that included your grades, your volleyball career, your love life. You didn’t want to disappoint them, or Hana-san. I understand. Tooru I’ve always understood.”

“Wow it sounds even more pathetic when you put it like that.”

“You’re trying to do the right thing. It’s not always easy. I shouldn’t have made it harder for you by calling. I’m sorry.”

How was it, that Iwaizumi was the one apologising to _him?_

“Hey Iwa-chan?”

“Hm?”

“Wanna go?”

“Go?”

“Yeah. My stuff is still all packed up, I haven’t really settled in. There’s only a suitcase, despite what you think I do _not_ own that many hair products. I could take it. My cars on the drive, the tanks full. I’ll pick you up. The drives fifteen minutes but I could make it in ten.”

“Tooru what are you saying? What do you mean, go where?”

“Far away. Up north, down south, wherever. So long as it’s nowhere near this city.”

“What about Hana-san, your parents, your job? _My_ job?”

“Fuck it, all of it. I mean, unless you really want to keep your job but you hate it and it pays like shit. We can get new jobs. We can rent a house. And buy a cat. And call her Oreo. And get her one of those collars with the jingly bells because I can’t be dealing with dead birds Iwa-chan you know what I’m like.”

“No.”

Oikawa thought maybe he had been punched in the stomach. “No?”

“We’re not calling the cat Oreo, that’s basically animal cruelty. We’ll call her Bear.”

“I’ll get the keys.”

 

…

_Dear Hana-chan,_

_I’m sorry to do it this way, but I think we should break up. It was never my intention to hurt you, in fact just the opposite, but I’m no longer happy. Please don’t be too sad._

_From Tooru_

_…_

_Letter of resignation._

_I’m sorry for the short notice…_

_…_

_Dear mum and dad,_

_Sorry for disappearing on you guys like this but I was offered a job and it’s all been a bit of a rush. Don’t call me, my phones broken. Don’t worry about me either!_

_From Tooru_

_…_

“Tooru my love?”

Oikawa sensed sarcasm, “Yes, my dearest.”

He looked both ways before pulling out of the junction.

“You tell a lot of lies.”

“Oh didn’t you know Iwa-chan? They don’t count if they’re written down.”

He nearly laughed, but was then reminded he was mid-lecture. “You’re gonna feel really fucking guilty about this later.”

“I’m never gonna regret it though.”

“You sure? Running away doesn’t fix all your problems, you know.”

“Yeah I know. But doesn’t it feel good, to just feel free for once?”

The shadows flitted across Oikawa’s face as he drove, eyes focused on the road, hair stuck up at every imaginable angle from sleeping on it, then running his hands through it. The window was shut tight, because it was cold outside, nearly zero and the radio was all the way down, because Iwaizumi found the adverts incessantly annoying. Oikawa would have some shit on if he weren’t driving but he was, and he found his usual drivel distracting when he drove.

“The best.”

**Author's Note:**

> So like I was randomly inspired because I was listening to lips of an angel and I was like what if Iwaoi and then I was like I could write it and then I was like kay. So I wrote it. And now it's quite early in the morning. When did that happen. You'd think it wouldn't take so long to write something so short, but you'd be wrong apparently. I hoped you liked it!


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